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“I was sold the minute Todd showed me your photo. When you walked into the restaurant, it confirmed what I already knew. You’re perfect for the job.”
My blush deepens.
“Do we have an arrangement, Amanda?”
Chapter 17
Sofia
Two days after my meeting with Alistair, I’m sitting next to him on a private jet, heading to Costa Rica. This trip is so different from my last business trip with a client. No matter how much I try, I can’t get Bryce out of my head and even though Alistair is paying me an obscene amount of money, I’d give it all up to be sitting next to Bryce.
I’ve got it bad for this guy and that ain’t good.
The days before leaving for South America, I tried contacting Bryce. I desperately wanted to get in touch with him. Given what he’s dealing with, I didn’t want to come across as needy, so I sent him texts. His responses were brief. I didn’t push. The man is focusing all his time and energy on saving his company’s reputation. I know a thing or two about crisis management when the shit hits the fan.
Since I’m taking my escort-gig-only phone along with my personal one with me, I won’t miss his texts or calls. When we landed at Juan Santamaría International Airport, I requested Alistair asks the chauffeur to drop us at a pharmacy, aka a drugstore.
My period arrived early.
I had planned for that, but my pads and tampons were packed at the bottom of my suitcase. I needed protection pronto. While I was fishing for my wallet inside my handbag, my phone rang. It was Cassie.
Since I didn’t want people in the line behind me to get pissed off, I told her I’d call her back. In my haste, I must’ve dropped my phone on the counter instead of tucking it in my handbag. By the time I noticed it was missing, we were already at the hotel.
I never removed Cassie’s number from my personal phone, and that was a saving grace. She contacted Todd on my behalf to tell him of my predicament. The problem is, Bryce doesn’t have my personal phone number, and Todd refuses to divulge any personal detail about his girls.
I asked Cassie if she could relay Bryce a message. She reminded me we’re not supposed to hold onto clients’ contact information once they are no longer a client, so she no longer has Bryce’s number. Additionally, if she ever broke one of Todd’s rules, he’d kick her to the curb.
In other words, I have no way of reaching Bryce
Fuck my life.
I debate on calling his office—there’s a phone number on his company’s website—but decide against it. He’s dealing with so much, and since he’s been uncommunicative, I doubt he’ll notice the radio silence on my end.
The last twelve days in South America were quite different from the nine days in Paris. The trip to the French capital felt like a never-ending tea party compared to the last fourteen days.
Alistair is a smart and astute businessman. Just like Bryce, he might not speak the language, but his instincts are spot on. Often times, he has a good sense of what’s said before I translate.
Speaking of Bryce… I guess it was wishful thinking on my part to hope he’d try to get in touch with Todd when he couldn’t reach me.
You’re not a priority to him.
We’re in San Juan, Puerto Rico at the tail end of our trip. Alistair is at his headquarters, but he doesn’t need me. In much need of some R&R, I’m lounging on a chair at the hotel’s private beach area, admiring a spectacular view of the ocean. Other than the fact Bryce hasn’t been in touch, life is good.
Le sigh.
I grab my phone to open my Kindle app, but a notification has me tapping on my messages’ icon.
My jaw drops.
Whoa.
I read Todd’s unsettling message. He copied a text Bryce sent him.
Bryce: With all the shit I’ve been dealing with, the days have been rushing by at light speed. I tried texting and calling you, without a response. Infuriated, I got in touch with Todd––your handler. You’re in South America with another man? You’ve been down there for two weeks? What the fuck? And what the fuck happened to your phone? I’m left to my own device, imagining that guy fucking you. I’m about to blow a gasket because you’re not answering my messages, my calls are going straight to voicemail, I don’t know where the fuck you are in goddamn South America, or what the fuck you’re doing with your new client. You need to get in touch with me if I can’t get in touch with you.
Jesus Christ.
Bryce’s words crush my heart.
